Scoop-Evelyn-Waugh [54]
�enin. There had been a distribution of red flags, which, ingeniously knotted or twisted, had already set a fashion in headdresses among the women of the market. "I ought to have come yesterday," said Mr. Baldwin peevishly. "It would have saved a great deal of unnecessary reorganization. God bless my soul there's another of those police vans." They skipped for a doorway. In the centre of a machine-gun squad, William recognized the dignified figure of Mr. Earl Russell Jackson. At length their way led them to the outskirts of the city, to the nondescript railway quarter, where sidings and goods yards and warehouses stood behind a stockade of blue guns and barbed wire. They passed an iron gate and approached a bungalow. "It is M. Giraud's," said Mr. Baldwin. "And this is M. Giraud, but I think that introductions are superfluous." The bearded ticket collector greeted them deferentially from the verandah. "M. Giraud has been in my service for some time," said Mr. Baldwin. "He had in fact been in consultation with me when you had the pleasure of travelling with him from the coast. I followed his brief period of public prominence with interest and, to be quite frank, with anxiety. If I may criticize without offence the profession you practice � at this particular moment with almost unique success � I should say that you reporters missed a good story in M. Giraud's little trip. I read the newspapers with lively interest. It is seldom that they are absolutely, point-blank wrong. That is the popular belief, but those who are in the know can usually discern an embryo truth, a little grit of fact, like the core of a pearl, round which have been deposited the delicate layers of ornament. In the present case for instance, there was a Russian agent arranging to take over the Government; M. Giraud was an important intermediary. But he was not the Russian. The workings of commerce and politics are very, very simple, but not quite as simple as your colleagues represent them. My man Cuthbert was also on the train with you. He should have given you a clue, but no one recognized him. He drove the engine. It was due to his ignorance of local usage that the lost luggage van was eventually recovered." "And may I ask," said William diffidently, "since you are telling me so much � whose interests do you represent?" "My own," said the little man simply. "I plough a lonely furrow... Let us see what they have been able to scrape up for luncheon." They had scraped up fresh river fish, and stewed them with white wine and aubergines; also a rare local bird which combined the tender flavour of partridge with the solid bulk of the turkey; they had roasted it and stuffed it with bananas, almonds and red peppers; also a baby gazelle which they had seethed with truffles in its mother's milk; also a dish of feathery Arab pastry and a heap of unusual fruits. Mr. Baldwin sighed wistfully. "Well," he said, "I suppose it will not hurt us to rough it for once. We shall appreciate the pleasures of civilization all the more...but my descent in the parachute gave me quite an appetite. I had hoped for something a little more enterprising." He swallowed his digestive pills, praised the coffee, and then expressed a desire to sleep. "Cuthbert will look after you," he said. "Give him anything you want sent to your paper." The wireless transmitter was in and beneath the garage; its mast rose high overhead, cleverly disguised as a eucalyptus tree. William watched the first words of his rejected despatch sputter across the ether to Mr. Salter; then he too decided to sleep. At five o'clock, when Mr. Baldwin reappeared, he was in a different, more conspicuous suit and the same mood of urbanity and benevolence. "Let us visit the town," he said, and, inevitably, they went to Popotakis's; and they sat there at sunset in the empty barroom.
''...No doubt you are impatient to send off your second message. I trust that the little mystery of the situation here is now perfectly clear to you." "Well...No...not exactly." "No? There are still gaps? Tut, tut, Mr. Boot, the foreign correspondent of a great newspaper should be able to piece things together for himself. It is all very simple. There has been competition for the mineral rights of Ishmaelia which, I may say as their owner, have been preposterously overvalued. In particular the German and the Russian Governments were willing to pay extravagantly, but in kind. Unhappily for them the commodities they had to offer